Much Ado About Nothing
by Norisumi
Summary: Dragons, dragons everywhere, and so is blood. When we thought Weyard was safe, chaos erupts when Lemuria is plundered by a dragon. And guess what? Kalt was plundered too! A girl against our eight. Who will win? Who will die?
1. The Night of Blood and Fire

_Prologue_

- - -

**The Night of Blood and Fire**

- - -

The screams… Oh how she wished she could block out those screams… They were the screams of the living, loud and shrilling, praying for some miracle to bring them out of this mess. They were the screams of the dying, praying for the last bit of life to flow through them, and for themselves to live just a second longer. They were also the screams of the dead, silent but louder than any, commanding the living to avenge their deaths. It was the screams of the dead, which she could not block out, where else a simple covering of the ear could block out the other screams. She just couldn't block them out. The screams of the dead floated through every crack in the wall, every pour of her body, every hole in her soul. It was the screams of the dead that distracted her, and that made her cry in exasperation, praying that the screaming would stop. It was the screaming of the dead that killed.

Another scream filled the air, yet another victim to the dragon. It was a scream of the living, horrible and cruel. She recognized it as the scream of her next-door neighbor, no, it _was_ the scream of her next door neighbor, for within seconds, the scream of the living turned into the scream of the dieing, then into the scream of the dead. Yet another voice of the dead to penetrated her heart, shattering her soul.

As soon as a scream of the dieing vanished, a scream of the dead took its place.

She gritted her teeth and willed herself to stay calm. Calm in this night of chaos and blood. A cloud covered the moon, a dark sinister cloud, just like the dragon that covered the village in blinding puffs of smoke. She peered cautiously around the barricade she was behind, her Hunter's Sword drawn and ready, though she could not imagine how such a puny sword would harm the dragon in the very least. It wasn't even a good Hunter's Sword, a little rusty and the blade was quite dull. The only valuable part of the sword was the small piece of ruby on its hilt, and even that was dull from years of neglect. The sword probably would not even worth a hundred coins, unless she took it to the blacksmith to get it shinned up. But she didn't have that kind of money, and plus, the sword had been given to her by her father. She couldn't sell it, even if she needed to.

The barricade was a good, strong wooden barricade. Warriors from the village huddled behind it as blasts of smoke came their way, poisonous smog from the dragon's throat. The barricade did nothing to prevent the smog from getting to the other side, but it certainly did offer some protection to the rows of archers firing untiringly at the dragon. But if the barricade was such a useful thing, then why didn't it stop the screams of the dead?

Her eyes watered because of the smoke. She batted her hands at the smoke around her eyes, trying to clear it so that she may look beyond it, to maybe catch a glimpse of the mighty dragon pillaging the village. Despite the night of fighting, she never really got a clear view. Her hands were dirty from crawling on the ground to escape smoke, and her eyes were red from smog. She coughed. The smoke was deafening in its own way. She hoped that her lung would not act up until the siege of the dragon was over. She prayed that her body had more strength than that.

Slowly but surely, the smog cleared, the first time in hours. The screams became louder now, the screams of the living being torn to shreds, the screams of the dieing lying there to waste and the screams of the dead, franticly trying to call out to the living to avenge their deaths. But the smoke was clearing. Perhaps fate was not all that cruel.

There were over five hundred villagers in the little village she lived it. Perhaps it could be called a town, but the village was under-developed and had not mayor. The little village had been proud to have such a large community, at least for a village as far north as this one, but now, it had nothing to be proud of.

There were less than a hundred villagers left. The attack of the dragon had taken its toll.

The smoke cleared. She looked on, past the barricade and the last row of frantically jabbing pikemen. Well, not exactly pikemen, as the village could not afford to train their villagers into warriors as they didn't often get attacked. So you can say the pikemen were really farmers with pitchforks and shovels. But it was the last defense they had besides a lone archer firing fruitlessly at the dragon, his fellows lying dead around him, their throats chocked up by smog and their faces charred and burnt from acid. She recognized her brother, lying there with his head twisted at an odd angle and a large bloody puddle where his chest should be, lying just by the archer still firing in vain.

She turned away from that horrific sight, and closed her eyes. She didn't… She wouldn't believe it. Her brother…

But strangely enough, she didn't feel anger, or pity, or even sadness. She felt fear. Fear for the village and fear for herself. The pikemen were the last resort to the village, was all she could think about. She turned away from the bloody sight. She had to concentrate if she wished to live. She had to protect.

Most of the people in the village could cast no further than a fume or a flare, and neither of those would damage the dragon in the very least. The Jupiter Adepts would use whirlwind, but that would only irritate the dragon. Even if she casted her spells, what could one person do against such a large dragon? It was hopeless.

She looked past their last resort, and saw the dragon.

The dragon was huge, its bloated body taking up over half the village space, forcing the villagers into a small tightly little clump. Its scales were a blood red, perhaps red-stained from the blood of its victims lying at its feet. Its cruel eyes were orange and yellow and blue in the middle, like fire. It was such a bloated dragon, but there was no doubt muscle beneath the mountains of vile blubber. Its teeth were swords, it's claws: scythes. Its tail was a giant mace, swinging from side to side, taking down houses as though they were nothing but toothpicks. And its wings were the most hideous, magnificent, incredible, vile things that she had ever seen.

Dragon blood poured out from little arrow holes and sword scratches all over its body. Every time it heaved, more blood poured out. But those were nothing compared to the wounds that the humans around it suffered. Every time the dragon swung its claws, humans fell. Every time it breathed, poisonous fumes killed. As long as _it_ lived, people died. As long as it lived, the screams of the dead remained.

She coughed again. In the dim light, she could make out drops of blood on her hand. Urg. She grimaced, and spat out onto the ground a blob of spit and blood mixture. Her lungs were acting up again. She had to act fast. She had over exerted herself again. Then, something rushed through her. Fear? Anger? She didn't know what, but it made her determined… Crazy…

She let out another cough, before doing a desperate leap away from the barricade. She waved her sword up in the air, and let out a yell, which didn't really mean anything but just made her feel like a hero. She didn't know what made her do that, but she did. And she was forever grateful that she did. Just then, the moon peeked around its cloudy barrier. The ruby on the hilt of her sword caught the moonlight and shimmered in the air.

"Over here, lizard face!" She called, "Move your carcass over here! With so much blubber, though, I bet you can't even move! I hope that gangrene sets in and you rot!"

The dragon shifted its position of taunting the frantically jabbing farmers with pitchforks. Its eyes narrowed as it pointed its ugly and bloated snout towards the sound of the insults. It knew that nothing in the world could insult it without dying. The dragon was confident that a puny human could do no more damage than a fly would. If its face weren't so bloated, the dragon would have smirked.

It let out a roar, a deafening roar. She covered her ears. The screams of the living died with the roar. The screams of the dieing died with the roar. The screams of the dead vanished to the roar. But the roar took the place of all of those other voices. She sincerely wished that she had not driven those voices away. The roar was ten times worse.

But she must reap was she sow.

She let out another yell, and raised her hands into the air. She focused hard, probing her own mind to find that hidden reserve of energy. Yes! There it is! She punched the barrier confining it in her mind, and let it take over. Red light of psynergy flooded her conscience. Her mouth formed the words that she had dredged from the depths of her mind.

"Dragon Fume!"

The three psynergy-circles, blood red, appeared above her head. Just as abruptly as they appeared, they disintegrated in a flash of red light. In it's place, there was a huge burst of light, and…

A wave of fire in the shape of a dragon took place. It writhed, coiled above her head. Golden eyes glared at its surroundings from the shapeless flame. Suddenly, it blinked. The Dragon Fume let out a roar that rivaled the roar of the enemy dragon, and charged, straight at the enemy's head. There was a flash of sparks and suddenly, it was gone.

And the enemy was roaring in pain.

Its bloated head was charred and scorched by the flames of the Dragon Fume. The smell of burnt blubber filled the air, making some of the villages gag. The dragon roared in pain. Its blood flowed out of the shallow wound on its head. It had not been killed, only surprised and hurt and its pride had been damaged. Its blood red eyes were blinded by the streams of blood, betrayed by its own body.

It lunged blindly in the general direction of the attack, roaring furiously, poisonous fumes spewing out from its jaws. Its great legs scrabbled on the rubble of what used to be the town monument. It roared in pain and vengeance, and shook its head. Dragon's blood flew everywhere, splashing on broken down houses and on the villagers themselves.

She grinned triumphantly. The dragon had been struck by her psynergy. She shook her sword at the dragon, her eyes flashing. She had hit! But the happiness and triumphant glee that was just there before vanished as suddenly as it came, as the dragon lunged blindly towards her. Dragon's blood flew, splashing over her tunic. Her red hair seemed redder now that dragon's blood had been added to the mix. She let out a yell of surprise, and then wished that she hadn't yelled as dragon's blood splashed into her mouth. She spluttered, and spat the blood out again, leaving a vile taste in her mouth.

But she had turned the tide of battle.

The distraction she had caused allowed someone else to act. It had freed someone who was trapped under the dragon's tail. There was another flash of red light, and three psynergy circles appeared over another woman's head. She turned towards the red light, and squinted. She recognized the woman. It was Arukana, a friend of hers in the village, more mother than friend. Her blood red hair was flying in all different directions, and her skin had a pink glow to it, probably from the psynergy circles, she realized. Could she have looked like Arukana when she had casted Dragon Fume?

Arukana's lips formed words. She watched and listened, covered in dragon's blood and bits of melted blubber as Arukana casted the spell.

"Cycle Beam!"

Arukana's hands came together, and she pointed her palms at the dragon. Immediately, a flaming beam of glowing white flames shot itself at the dragon, piercing its body.

The smell of dragon's blood and burnt blubber grew worse. The dragon had been wounded. There was a gash on its side where the beam hit. Blood poured out. But neither the wound that Arukana made, or the would that she made proved to be the least bit fatal, but was more of a shallow scratch to the dragon.

But the dragon has had enough. With a shriek of defiance, it rose into the air; wings flapping furiously to bring its bloated body up into the sky. Blood came down like rain, creating a scene of blood red. The dragon wheeled, and pointed east, still roaring. And as quickly as it came, the dragon was gone, leaving a silent, plundered village, dead bodies, blood, and dazed villagers.

She groaned amidst the blood and blubber. Her arm ached. She was so tired… That one psynergy spell had been casted when she had been the weakest. She slumped forward, the blood of the dragon flowing around her and sank into the ground. She was covered in dragon's blood, but she was sure that the bloated dragon would have way more blood than this. And as long as the dragon was alive, her village would be in danger.

Her vision became hazy. She so sincerely wanted to sleep. She was just about to drop, when a voice penetrated her sleepy daze.

"Magaira! Magaira! You did it! You saved the village!" The voice crowed. It was directed at her. There were sounds of running feet, but she could not stay awake any longer. No, she couldn't. Her eyes closed as the sounds of the feet drew near, and the last thing she heard was the sound of a very familiar voice.

"Ah, the poor dear… She's all tuckered out. She deserves some sleep."

She, Magaira, fell into a deep slumber. Darkness took her.

But even though they had driven away the dragon, this night shall forever be dubbed: "The Night of Blood and Fire"

- - -

_**Pronunciation: **_

_Magaira: Ma-Ga-**I**-Ra_

_Arukana: Uh-Rue-**Con**-uh_


	2. End of a Journey, Start of Another

_Chapter One_

- - -

**End Of a Journey, Start of Another**

- - -

Across the Continent, in Vale, a young wind seer was having troubles of her own.

Her golden hair covered her eyes. She didn't brush them aside. Anything was better than having been discovered. Beneath her hair, her eyes were red-rimed from crying, and her tunic was tear-stained as well. Her delicate hands were clenched, a quill in one hand and a parchment in another. The parchment had been wrinkled and mangled, but not ripped, as though the receiver had not been pleased with the message, but did not have to heart to rip it apart.

How… How could he have died! So soon… He had still been young! He… He… Tears fell, slid down her cheek, and onto her lap. She made no move to clean them. Her hands felt wet; perhaps from her tears or from her sweat, it didn't matter. All that she could focus on were the waves of grief she felt. He promised her that he would always be there for her! How could he be… gone?

How could Faran, who had taken care of her for so many years, be just… gone?

It had been only a few months since their journey to light the light houses have ended. She had all ready been eager to go home to Lalivero and see him. But one thing came after another, and she had to stay. She was going to go back and see Faran! But how… He… Gone… How could that be? He promised her that he would always be there for her! How could he break that promise? How? _How?_

Sheba gritted her teeth, trying to stop the pain. The pain of loosing a loved one… Hadn't she always felt this pain? She had noticed the pain a long time ago, when she realized she was embarking on a journey to save the world, and again when she realized she did not have a family unlike most of the others, who at the very least, knew where they had come from. Now, the pain seemed to spread deeper into her, seeping slowly into her heart, where else it had only scratched her before.

But even if she had herself under control, Faran would still be dead: nothing could reverse that. Even if she shed all her tears, Faran would not come back alive again. She would never see his smiling face, or feel his hand upon her head again. She would never hear his voice again: never.

She could not hold onto that grief any longer. She collapsed, sobbing. Her head and hands fell to her lap, limp. The parchment fell to the ground, along with the ink quill she was holding. The two objects fluttered to the ground like leaves in the autumn breeze. Her hands went to her face, and heart-wrenching sobs escaped her parched lips. Shudders wracked her body, every movement making her cry harder.

She cried and cried until she could cry no more. Not another tear could be shed after wards. The candle she had been sitting in front of casted an eerie glow to the room. It was now short; the rest of the candle had been burned away while she cried. She had cried for all that was worth crying for, and to let out that pain she had carried for so long. Faran…

Her foster father had died. She couldn't do anything about it. She wasn't even there to hear his last words, or had even visited him after her journey had been over. She had been so careless… Thoughtless…

And so, after she had no more tears to shed, she had cried some more.

"I-I couldn't… I-I-I didn't even see him… I'm so useless… How… How could I had not seen this coming… Faran…"

Her words were whispered, her normally light and soft voice heavy with an unimaginable pain. But her voice turned from anguish to accusing, a sharp and angry, accusing tone that would have broken Faran's heart.

"You promised me! You promised that you would always be there for me! You promised! How could you break that promise! Now that you're gone, I have no one! No one! How… Why… How could you break that promise?"

She lifted her head from her hands, hair falling away from her face. Her green eyes were full of pain and anger, not just anger at herself, but anger at Faran. She looked up to the ceiling of her room, as though waiting for an answer from Faran above. But none came. She could do nothing, but to blame it all on herself and Faran… She could do nothing but that.

And even if she blamed everything on Faran, nothing would be the same ever again, and she would still feel that pain. So if she continued to blame him, it would be traitorous. Instead, she buried her head into her arms, and continued to cry. To cry and to mourn the dead.

Finally, her shuddering subsided and so did her tears, each drop becoming harder and harder to squeeze out until the last. She lifted her head from her arms; her eyes red from all those tears and her mouth dry for crying for so long. She took a hand to smooth back her hair, feeling its softness and reassuring herself that she was still alive, and that she would continue to live, if only to keep Faran's memory alive. Overall, she was extremely depressed over this, but she should not stay depressed. She remembered that Faran had once told her that the dead would be happier if the one they loved were happy… Did Faran really care for her?

She tilted her head upward, closing her eyes to allow one last tear to shed. If he did, then he would be happy. She would make sure of it. But she must leave behind her past for that to happen. Reaching her hands upward, she stretched them out, before standing up on wobbly legs. Slow, she walked over to her bedroom window. It was closed, as it was winter here in Vale.

Winter in Vale was mild and sunny, and only at night, did the temperature drop any amount of temperature. The wind howled often at night, but this night, everything seemed calm and perfect. The tree outside was covered in rime, while the snow from the previous day's falling blanketed the ground like icing. Icicles hung from the roof of the inn she was staying at. She had gotten the room closest to the sky, so she could see the sky and the clouds and feel the breeze. It wasn't that high off the ground, but being a Jupiter Adept, it offered her some comfort.

_It's a full moon tonight. _She thought to herself. Looking out, she could see the moon shinning in all its glory. Clouds rolled by, but none crossed the moonbeam's paths, silver clouds lighted by the shine of the moon, soft, almost like mist. She looked longingly at the moon, something clicking within her. Perhaps…

"If I was really born in Anemos, then why am I down here?" She said aloud, as though trying to convince herself that she really did not come from there. But she knew that, inside; she wished that she had such a glorious background. It would make life easier down here, knowing that she was a direct descendent of one of the greatest civilizations alive. But before she could think about it further, she yawned, stretching her arms upward as she did so. It was too late to think about these kinds of things. Besides, didn't Faran always tell her to sleep early?

With the thought of Faran, Sheba's spirit dimmed, but she took great care to not show it, as though Faran was watching her every step. She took one last glance at the moon, before walking over to her bed, and after changing into her nightgown; she walked over to her writing table to blow out the candle. Finally, she found her way through the darkness back to her bed, and with a heavy sigh, collapsed into sleep.

- - -

Back on the other side of the continent, something was brewing.

As darkness faded into twilight, Arukana gave a sigh of relief. It had already been three days since the dragon's siege, and things still looked bad. Looking about, she could still see dazed people, walking around, or comforting others with the same glazed look on their faces, as they struggled to pick up their shattered lives and rebuild. And looking around, she could still see dead bodies lying in the snow, blood dry on their faces, forever frozen in horror. The sight of those sightless eyes made her want to gag.

She hurried through the snow; her eyes focused at nowhere in particular, as everywhere, there were still signs of the dragon's siege. Broken down houses was everywhere, roofs caved in, walls broken like eggshells, broken wooden planks everywhere. Somewhere beneath all that rubble were items once held dear to the owner of the house, but are now broken up and deemed as worthless debris, not only because they were crushed, but also because their owners and their owner's friends are all dead. Among the five hundred and sixty two villagers, only one hundred and thirty five survived, and among those, only forty-one were in fit condition to be helping anyone, or to be building. And still among those numbers, only six of them, including herself, were still mentally stable enough to go on with life, though still scarred by the sight of death friends and family.

She was grateful, though, that she did not have a family before hand, so she could not have lost anyone close to her, and none of her close friends had perished.

Looking upward into the sky, Arukana grimaced. Clouds were rolling in fast, and it looked as though there will be a blizzard tonight.

_We don't need another crisis. _

It's true: a blizzard up north here was very deadly. The snows here never melt, even in the summer, but the blizzards have always been harsh. A strong blizzard could blow down houses and cave in roofs, which were not made strong enough, sending more people to their deaths. And to make things worse, most of the people are too injured to help with preparations for the storm, and there are already too many casualties to allow the storm to take more lives. Usually, people would have their board-up equipment ready in their sheds or houses and as soon as a blizzard was sighted, they'd board up their houses and secure everything, but now, no one was in condition to do anything. Most of the people did not even have homes to board up. Arukana slapped her forehead in frustration. It was all because of that dragon. It had come at the wrong time: the winter. If it had been summer or spring, there would not have been worries about blizzards or avalanches, but now, in winter, it was the most treacherous time of all.

Already, snow was falling lightly, but though it was falling, it made Arukana very irritated. Being a Mars Adept, she never liked the cold, the water or the snow. Now, if the snow fell a little faster and covered up the blood-stained ground and the broken houses: the physical remainders of the dragon's plunder, she would not mind the snow so much, but since it was only falling lightly, things were not as good as they should be. Life was cruel to them.

By the time she reached her destination, snow was already falling in a semi-blizzard, the winds starting to howl and snow was starting to blanket the ruins of houses and dead corpses. Now that the snow is really falling, Arukana decided that she did not like snow, whether or not it covered up blood tracks. Panting, she drew her thick red cape around her for more warmth as she took another step towards the front door. The snow was already up to her shin and more snow was coming down by the second. But she could do nothing about it.

Finally, she reached the door. Panting and puffing, she grabbed the door handle with a gloved hand and turned the handle. It was one of the few houses that survived the attack, and even so, it was still damaged when Arukana had found it. She had fixed it up well and patched up all the holes so it would be livable. Entering the house, she quickly turned around to push the door shut, straining against the howling wind. With an angry yell, she gave the door a huge shove and slammed it shut soundly, before grabbing a nearby table and pushing it against the door to keep it shut. But even inside, the wind was still howling.

But at least she was out of the storm.

Sighing gratefully, Arukana pulled a chair and sat down, taking off her gloves and unwrapping her scarf. A few candles lit the room, giving it an ominous glow. She took off her cape, and let it drop to the ground with a thud, snow falling off of it and melting by her feet. She then took off her boots and placed them by the chair, before breathing another sigh of relief. All was well.

After she was settled, Arukana's eyes darted over to the bed. Her lips curled up to a small smile, before she stood up and walked over softly.

Sleeping on the bed amidst a mountain of covers and giant pillows was a young boy, except, you would not be able to tell that he was a boy, simply because he was too covered in coverings. The only thing you could see were a few golden strands of hair sticking out from the covering, but other than that, there wasn't any other sign of a boy sleeping under those covers, and the only sign of actual life was the rising and falling of the covers.

Arukana was pulling a chair over to the side of the bed, when the chair leg hit the drawer at the head of the bed. There was a loud thump, and Arukana winced at the sound, chiding herself in her mind for making such a noise. She knew that such a sound would wake him up right away. Indeed, the young boy seemed to jump out of his coverings, his gray eyes wide open. His eyes darted over to where Arukana was fearfully. For a second, Arukana was afraid that he did not recognize her, being so sick. But immediately, his eyes softened, and he collapsed back into bed, this time with his head visible, and gave Arukana a feeble smile.

"Welcome back, Aru," His voice seemed strained, as though there was a strainer inside his throat. He coughed, his throat hurting from disuse, and parched from the lack of water. Arukana nodded, and quickly walked over to the table where a cup of water was, and came back and passed the cup to the parched boy. He gulped a few mouthfuls gratefully, before sighing and setting down the cup by the drawer.

"How was the meeting?" His voice was stronger now that he had some water, but Arukana wasn't fooled at all. His gaunt face showed that he was still sick, and there were dark rings under his gray eyes. His hair was matted slightly, and he looked as though he hadn't slept a wink.

"Just fine," She smiled at him, and leaned back on her chair, running a hand through her red hair, before speaking again. "We decided that we'll have to take some action about this. As you know, the dragon may return."

She chose her words carefully and spoke slowly, as though she were trying to compute the words herself. Her tone was casual, but at the mentioning of the dragon, it got somewhat angry, and she stressed the word dragon a little more than she should have. That was normal, considering the circumstances, but the boy wasn't fooled. He sat up from the bed, his gray eyes locking with Arukana's brown eyes.

"Magaira is going, isn't she?" It wasn't so much of a question as it was a statement. Arukana gave a sigh, and touched her hand to her forehead, before looking up grimly.

"Always to the point, huh, Kelt?" She said light-heartedly, before continuing, "And you read my mind didn't you?" Before Kelt could answer, she shook her head. "Anyways, yes, she's going to find that lance. She volunteered herself, so I couldn't stop her. Actually," Her eyes sparkled in amusement, "she threatened to burn down anyone who tries to stop her."

"Ah, that's just like her," Kelt replied. He laughed, his laughter like jewels in the wind to Arukana. It had been so long since he last laughed. But almost immediately, he began to cough, shuddering, wracking coughs that seemed to course through his whole body. She leapt forward, pushing him back down by his shoulders, her brow furrowed worriedly. She saw a few red specks at the edge of his covers, and identified them to be blood.

For as long as she could remember, Kelt had always been sick. The disease he was born with hurt her just as much as it hurt him. Watching him grow up and being consumed daily by the disease was a little too much for her to handle. She was a mother-type person. Ever since Kelt's mother died, she had sort of unofficially adopted him, though officially, he was still his father's son. Now that his father was dead too, because of the dragon, she was officially in charge of him. She rubbed her hand over his chest until his coughing subsided slightly.

"Are you alright Kelt?" She asked anxiously, running a hand through his hair as though to comfort him that way. Kelt ceased his coughing, and was just breathing heavily now, but a look of annoyance crossed his face, and he nodded tersely.

"I don't like being treated as an invalid," he said softly, reaching a hand from beneath his covers to push her hands away. "I don't need your sympathy."

Arukana merely shook her head sadly, before returning to her seat.

"It's just like you to act tough."

Ignoring that comment, Kelt spoke again, this time with a certain degree of fright in his voice.

"You can't let Magaira go!" He pleaded, "You can't! She won't make it! She can't find the Dragon Lance on her own!"

"Now, don't say that," Arukana cut him off with a wave of her hand. "She's strong and most likely out of everyone survivor in this village to go and search for the Lance."

"Then I'll go too!" Kelt blurted out, struggling to rise from his bed. "I'll go too and help her! She can't go on her own-"

Arukana pushed him down again, this time a bit more roughly. His gray eyes looked up at Arukana, full of hope and defiance. But the older woman shook her head.

"She can take care of herself," she replied, "She'll be very disappointed if her best friend did not believe in her." This statement caused Kelt to go limp on the bed, his eyes suddenly glazed over and his expression of sorrow and guilt. Arukana felt the young boy's guilt, and sighed, before reaching another hand to stroke his hair. Poor Kelt, and poor Magaira. Neither knew what Magaira was getting herself into.

"It's okay, Kelt. I bet Magaira would be very pleased to know that you were worried around her," She tried to cheer him up, but it did not bring any change of mood for the young boy. Sighing, she finally relented, settling back in her chair.

"Would you feel better if I told you I'll be going along with her?" She asked casually, but inside, she was bracing for the sudden explosion of joy, and maybe anger from Kelt. She winced, ready…

Just as she predicted, Kelt exploded.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner! You could have just saved me the pain of thinking that Magaira would be all alone out there!" He cried, both of happiness and anger. He shot up from his bed. Suddenly, he broke into wracking coughs, and laid down again, his gray eyes filled with pain and hatred for his sick condition. More blood appeared on his covers, and he shuddered, as though he were cold, even though he still had a mountain of covers on top of him.

"See?" Arukana sighed, "This is why I did not tell you sooner. I didn't want you to over-exert yourself." She ran a hand through her red hair, her brown eyes serious. She then stood up and walked from the bed, feeling Kelt's eyes following her, and took her scarf from its position on the chair. It was cold and still wet from the treck outside. But no matter. She quickly closed her eyes, searching in her mind for that hidden reserve of psynergy. Quickly, she found and broke through the barrier, red light flooding through her mind. And within seconds, the water on the scarf evaporated and the scarf was toasty warm.

"Being a Mars Adept has its advantages," she smirked as she sat down, before placing the scarf just below Kelt's chin. "Here, this'll catch the blood so you don't feel wet, okay?"

Arukana was just like his mother some times…

"Yeah," He replied weakly, before closing his eyes, drawing in deep breaths. Soon, the room was quiet, except for his deep breathing. Arukana watched the young boy as he rested.

Finally, Kelt opened his eyes once more. Looking over to Arukana, he drew in another breath, before speaking.

"You'll be careful out there, right?" He asked, his eyes betraying his worry.

Arukana gave him a deep look, before replying. "Yes, of course I will. You needn't worry." She gave a small smile, before taking her hand and using a finger to touch the tip of his nose playfully. "And we'll be back before you know it and visit, 'kay?"

"When you visit, will you tell Seska and the others all about your journey?" Kelt asked in a childish voice, looking up at Arukana. Seska was a girl of fourteen years old, one of the survivors of the dragon siege. Seska was the object of Kelt's affection, though he dare not admit it, but he still mentions her once in a while with a slip of the tongue.

But lately, he had been talking more of her.

"We'll tell you too," Arukana reassured the young boy, grinning at the mention of Seska's name. Luckily, Kelt answered right after her, as she would have certainly teased him about it.

"Well, you'll have to tell my grave," He answered seriously, his gray eyes filled with sorrow. Arukana was confused for a moment, before reaching hand to touch his forehead gently. She gave him a sad smile.

"Don't say things like that," She chided. "You won't die. You have lots of years ahead of you. And we'll be right by your side," She added.

"But I will die!" He suddenly burst out. Tears suddenly appeared at the corners of his eyes, rolling down his pallid cheeks, and finally soaked up in Arukana's scarf. He reached a bony hand out from below his covers to wipe away a few of them, before continuing.

"Everyone knows I will die! I saw it in a dream! And why else would they look at me like that! And why else would they give me this house when there aren't enough homes to spare? And why else…"

He was cut off when he suddenly burst into another coughing fit, specks of blood appearing on Arukana's scarf. His eyes widened, and he hasted to apologize, but stopped when Arukana shook her head. She simply drew the scarf and turned it around to the other side, and tucked it firmly under his chin, so that he wouldn't feel the coldness of the blood, before speaking softly.

"You won't die," She smiled softly at him, but Kelt could detect a little sadness behind that smile, "And you won't die anytime soon. The sickness will pass." She stopped, before continuing, running a hand through her hair. She seemed to do that a lot when she's tired or explaining things.

"Plus, I haven't heard of anyone who has predicted their death before. It's just not been done, so it must have been a bad dream or something."

Kelt slumped in his bed, seemingly giving up. Watching Arukana, he furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. She didn't understand: she couldn't understand anything that he said. She couldn't feel the coldness creeping up his bones, nor could she feel his failing heartbeats. So instead, he laid there, silent and waiting. A strange feeling caught his throat, and more tears threatened to come out, but he hid them, instead, by turning away from Arukana. She would learn soon enough…

Arukana watched the young boy in his turmoil, and sighed, firmly believing that he wouldn't die. He was so young, and his powers not fully developed. But Jupiter Adepts always developed young… But that was something for anther day. A wave of tiredness washed over her, and she could feel her eyelids drooping.

"You rest now, 'kay, Kelt?" She stood up, patting him on the head, before giving him a smile. "Rest well, and don't think about depressing things."

"But when are you leaving?" Came Kelt's voice, muffled by the covers. He turned around to face Arukana. She could see the worry and the sadness in his eyes as he spoke, and she knew how it felt, to see a friend go.

"Tomorrow," She said as gently as she could, "We need to leave fast so we can come back fast," She explained. Smiling, she patted his head again, and walked towards the table. "We'll be back before you know it, okay?"

Kelt nodded sadly, before turning back. Within seconds, his breathing evened out, and he appeared to be asleep. Shaking her head, Arukana walked over to the candles and blew them out, one by one, so that each one blown out added a new layer of darkness to the room. When the last candle was blown out, she walked towards another door at the opposite of the room, and opened the door, before disappearing into it.

As soon as her door closed, a single tear rolled down Kelt's cheek. His mind was in turmoil: they were leaving the next day. Magaira was going to come and visit him, he knew, but he would not be able to convince her to stay. That, he got from a dream. His powers were developing extremely fast now, and he figured that it was because he was dying.

Slowly, his mind slowed, and darkness crept to him, waves of sleepiness washed over him, and he slowly descended into sleep.

'_Don't make promises you can't keep, Arukana,'_ was his last thought, before sleep overtook him.

That day, it was the end of a journey, but it was also the start of another.


End file.
